I Am Irrationally Irked at People Who Judge Me Incorrectly

So last night, I slept over at a friend's apartment. No big deal.
I hadn't originally planned on sleeping there, so when I went to her place I was just in yoga pants and a t shirt. My usual Friday night attire right there.


Anyway. I had breakfast plans early this morning, and I needed to stop back by my house before I went there, so I had to leave my friend's apartment rather early this morning. 


I borrowed a sweatshirt from her, because, alas, it was freezing this morning. So there I was, walking down Rugby at 8:25 in the morning, wearing yoga pants, a bright red Dollywood Christmas sweater, and looking like a mess.


I passed a few people on my way home.


Persons #1 and #2:
Thing One and Thing Two are both female and both clearly wearing their ensembles from the previous evening. Contrary to popular belief, I do not read minds; however, if I had to guess their thoughts judging from the way they looked at me as we passed each other, I think it would sound a bit like this:


"How did she get laid last night wearing that?"


Person #3:
A woman walking her two dogs. 
As a general rule, I am friendly towards other pedestrians. So, in my usual manner, I smile as we pass each other. Usually things turn out better. 
Instead of returning my smile, she sent me a look of extreme judgment. Kind of like this:

Seriously guys, I didn't have sex last night.
That was not the walk of shame.
I promise. 


Add some sass to your class,
Jenna

I Am Irrationally Irked at Inappropriate Attire

Women at UVa, this one's for you.


As I mentioned yesterday, the weather has been rather damp. Logically, the presence of precipitation leads to a large-scale change in wardrobe in the population of UVa. 


I just don't understand why that change is the way it is. 


It's cold and wet, so you would think about rain jackets. Check. 
You would think umbrellas. Check
You're constantly passing through puddles or wading through small streams, so you think rain boots. Check.


But something is missing here. 


That something is a pair of pants.


Because leggings, my dear friends, are not pants. 
Yet for some reason, girls seem to be under the impression that some moisture in the air can transform one item of clothing into another. 
If, whenever it started raining, I took to wearing a large, stretchy mitten as a shirt, you would judge me. 
Same principle. 


It's okay to wear jeans with rain boots, I promise. We don't live in the seventies. Your jeans are not excessively flared. They will fit inside the boot. 


You have no excuse. 


Add some sass to your class,
Jenna

I Am Irrationally Irked at My Grace and Dignity

If you have met me, I doubt you will ever meet someone more clumsy. Congratulations, if you enjoy watching others trip or be awkward, look no further. I'm pretty much the best you'll find. No big deal. 


So here was the situation this morning:
It's raining. A lot. I may have forded a few streams on my way to class, and I can now better relate to the average salmon. 
Also, it's probably good to note that my shoes do not have a lot of traction.


So there I was, rushing to Hebrew at 8:57, trying desperately to be on time, knowing that three minutes would probably not allow me to make that happen. But I'm a desperate optimist, what can I say. 
I was rushing down the hall of Cabell, when SHAZAM. I slip. Into the guy walking right in front of me. He catches me. This is convenient. I am embarrassed. Especially since I was in the middle of lip syncing to Britney.


Guy: "Well hello there."
Me: "Well hello. Let's please pretend that didn't just happen." 
Guy: "Um, absolutely not."
Me: "Rude."


This is where I sassily walk away. 
Or attempt to, anyway.
I took one step, and almost face planted. Again. 


Guy: "Your life is not real."
Me: "I tell myself that more often than you would think."


Add some sass to your class,
Jenna

I am Irrationally Irked at Friends Who are Further Along On Assignments than I am

Sometimes, I get behind on work I need to do.


Okay. Fine. I'm always behind on work I need to do.


That's entirely my fault, and I'm not going to complain about it. 


But there's something else that irks me. Well, someone. Actually, it could be more than one someone. 


Possibilities: 
Person One: Over-Eager Oliver
This is the kid that writes papers a week before they're due. 
No. Just no. 


Person Two: Don't Care Dilbert
"Well, screw this. I don't care. I'm just bs-ing my way through this."
Yet somehow his story about cherry freeze pops is still more interesting than what you spent all night writing, praying to the gods of late night papers that what you are writing will be so beautiful it changes your professor's life. Forever. 


Person Three: Friendly Fred
This is the person you are actually friends with, who is also absurdly behind on the assignment, yet somehow, he manages to write much faster than you do. 
Friendly Fred is the worst, because you can't hate him. All you can do is write blog posts about him at 12:05 in the morning the day the assignment is due. 


Not that any of this is based on my experiences recently. 


Add some sass to your procrastinating class,
Jenna


Disclaimer: This is in no way directed at a specific person. Especially anyone whose name rhymes with Shpleric Shplamar. 

I Am Irrationally Irked At Dirty Laundry

Here's how things generally go with the laundry in my life:
I do laundry. I wear clothes. Life gets crazy. Time passes. I run out of clothes to wear. I don't have time to do laundry again yet.
One of two things then happens. I either look like this:

Or like this:

Those might be slight exaggerations. Slight being the operative word there. 

Anyway.

Today, I reached that point. I decided I would rather avoid the oversized Christmas sweater vibe (it becomes more common the closer I get to December), and I put on something a little bit nicer than what I usually wear. A little bit. I really don't look that fantastic today.

But apparently that is much more fantastic than usual. 

I've gotten a lot of compliments. That's swell. I'm not complaining.

Then I ran into a good friend of mine on the way to class today. Observe:

"Jenna!"

"Friend!"

"Wow. You look really nice today."

"Thanks. Much appreciated."

"You don't have a date tonight do you? Wait. Of course you don't. You're just behind on laundry aren't you?"

My life is far too predictable. 

Add some sass to your class,

Jenna

I Am Irrationally Irked At Customers Who Throw Off My Groove

So, I have a second job working nights at Panera. A lot of nights. Most nights. 

I work a lot.

Anyway.

Many a time during the night shift, we have lulls without any customers. I love these lulls. I am exceptionally irked when they end. There are several reasons for this. 

The main reason is this:

Customers throw off my groove. 

I am a cashier. This sounds absurd. 

But you know what?

I'm not absurd. 

I'm just a very musical person. 

Ringing people up doesn't (usually) involve music.

(This is a false statement when I am ringing you up.)

(Which is awkward.)

(For you.)

But part of my job is to make you feel comfortable. ("Panera, your everyday oasis." Yeah, that's a real slogan.)

So I have to stop.

Which means,

Congratulations customer, you just threw off my groove.

It's kind of like this:

If it wasn't clear, the customer is the old man in this situation. 


You know, sometimes I just want to belt Gaga or Adele without being judged. Is that really so much to ask?


Okay, yeah. 
Apparently.


Add some sass to your class,
Jenna

I Am Irrationally Irked at Being Unable to Control My Mutant Abilities

I am currently back in Virginia, which is swell. I have yet to spend an entire summer on this side of the country, but I have quite vivid memories about it being WICKED hot when I was here last August. Naturally, I thought the weather would be similar when I arrived a couple weeks ago. 


False. 


Instead, there have been a few storms. 
Storm #1: Sunday evening.
This is my personal favorite. 
Natasha and I decided that we would grab dinner and hang out after we got back from the XA leadership retreat. We were excited. After some walking and encounters with some overly studious students and a creepy but well meaning man at Starbucks, we found ourselves enjoying a lovely bench across from the Corner. We noticed a cool breeze. We remarked on the possibility of rain later that night. We had a brief conversation on how much we both love rain. I say it was brief, because we were interrupted by the rain itself. 
Within about four minutes, both of us were entirely drenched. I don't think I could have been wetter if I was swimming in a lake. 
After we had been pelted with hail at a very high velocity, we called my roommate to come pick us up. I hung up the phone, and the rain stopped. Of course. Also, I feel like I should mention that it took her a little while to get to us, seeing as there were now very large trees blocking almost every road to get to us.


Storms #2-5: Any day I decide to walk somewhere.
No lie. I would say to my roommate, "Hey roommate, I'm going to go visit a friend." Cue rain. I would be on a Wal-Mart run on a fine summer day. While in checkout, I heard thunder. I walk to the exit to find a torrential downpour. Literally completely soaked during the twenty second walk to the car. Not cool atmospheric turbulence, not cool. 


All of these recent occurrences have led myself and others to come to the conclusion that I am, in fact, Halle Barry. With white hair. And mutant abilities. Mutant abilities that make it really difficult for me to walk outside without feeling like it would probably be in my best interest to bring an umbrella, despite the fact that it's 95 degrees out. But then, as is consistent with my life, it never does rain when I bring the umbrella. 


Add some sass to your (still slightly damp) class,
Jenna